Thankless
by persephonevii
Summary: A reflection piece on conspiracy communities, the people who go missing, those mysterious men in black and how they all fit in together as seen through the eyes of one good little coppertop.


**TITLE:** Thankless

**SUMMARY:** A reflection on conspiracies, people who go missing, the agents and how they all fit in. Or maybe just a reflection piece on the agents. Meet Bree Ranier, this tale's good little coppertop.

**RATING:** K+

**FEEDBACK: **Yes please! Constructive criticism most welcome.

-

They were the sort of people the kooky conspiracists spoke with a particular kind of dread. Not the general dread or hatred rooted in an impotence to change the secret evils and injustices of now, but the sort of dread that made you wonder whether the conspiracists were really onto something. That they might actually be real and that conspiracists could say with detailed confidence that they had actually seen or even met them. Conspiracists weren't ones to lie. Even the famous delusional one did not lie. They were so caught up, so serious about their beliefs and works on society that lying was insulting to them and worst yet, bringing them down to the evil they would privately research and resist.

It was certainly entertaining, these reports. So detailed, mingled with fear and disbelief. A conspiracist's own version of touching the sacred. There is an air of fear, reverence and shock.

'I'm not sure if this right, but thinking about it I think it is. I believe my sister, Nova, has been contacted by these individuals and interrogated... as the book describes; tall, black-suited and very odd, disconcerting mannerisms... Nova's run into the authorities before but it's never fazed her... she is genuinely terrified. I know they did something... '

Great movie material. Oh wait, didn't they make a movie about that already?

'Sister... hallucinations... Mother thought she was patently psychic... took her! Harvesting? Read Bill Bailey, he's got a very convincing theory...'

'I tell you, very funny business.'

Bree skimmed through the reports. She'd giggle, gloat and detach herself from these reports- no, stories of strange men in black who disappeared people into the night. Honestly, it was probably the Mafia on the rise again. Or someone had seen too many reruns of 'Men in Black 1 & 2'.

A foolish time once ago, Bree might of believed them. But her detachment, a superiority complex which she proudly nurtured protected her from what she was quickly realising were just more kooky stories and fears. Maybe it was the Government, she herself (like most people) never did trust her government 100 so who was to say they did not indulge in those antics? But rising numbers of disappearances? Haphazard teens? Wannabe pyschics? More sightings? It was ridiculous. Bree with some mental lamenting (it was 1am!) decided to return to the land of the living and the rational and the real. Goodnight my darling kooks, keep fashioning your tales, I'm sure some sympathetic writer or director will listen to your plight and...

-

"Miss Ranier? Please follow me," this man in black said.

Just as the book describes: tall- check, black-suited- check, very odd, disconcerting- hey! I've only just met him. Cut me some slack.

Bree followed the man down the corridor to an empty office. Funny that, she'd never seen this place before in all her six years at the academy. The office actually wasn't quite that empty, it was really more spartan than anything. White walls, white tiled floor, harsh white light. A table and two chairs in the minimalistic style, and two more men in black. It seemed the one she had followed in was their superior, she noticed the deferential way one of them handed a slim folder to him.

"Please take a seat," he offered, "This will be brief. We do not wish to intrude on your education despite the circumstances."

Please do, mister. I'm sure the jungles of Calculus can wait.

Taking the seat, she watched as the man sat himself down and took off his sunglasses. He had quite easily the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

"You have nice eyes," she suddenly blurted out, but Bree fumed inside. Where had that come from? She looked down, suddenly embarrassed in turn.

"Ah... thankyou," he answered, "But that is not relevant to the situation at hand. We, as you probably already know, wish to discuss the disappearance of Anna Farris. An acquaintance of yours?"

Bree looked up, shoving the feelings of embarrassment aside, "Yes, she's really more of a friend actually."

The blue-eyed man nodded, "And when did you last see her?"

Bree trotted through her memory, she was never good with dates so she settled for days, "Last Monday."

"What were you doing then? What was she doing?"

"Walking to school together. It's a 10 minute walk. I remembered..." Bree paused, "Then yes, she was complaining about how she didn't have any breakfast, so we went to the corner shop. It's pretty much opposite the school. This is where it gets weird."

"Weird?" he asked.

"Yeah, she just disappeared! In the store. I don't know. We know the store owners pretty well, they seemed like good guys. I mean, I was waiting ages outside that shop. It was almost bell time and I was getting fed up of waiting for her, so I went inside and she was not there!" Bree replied, "I mean, I asked the shop-keepers where she was. It was so weird. They said she went out the usual way, you know the front door. But I didn't hear her and I would of, cause that door screeches loud."

Again the blue-eyed man nodded, "Is there anything else you remember that morning?"

Bree paused again. She wondered if she should mention her missing friend's obsession with Magick, Wicca. All those Internet chat groups she would hang out in, even real life meetings. Maybe they had something to do with it! As far as Bree was concerned, every group had their weirdos and the Wiccans were just one big pack of weirdos. God only knows what could of happened now. A flare of panic shot up in her again, she would worry, fear and get angry about her friend, but when panic arrived; it was something else. Horrible images and sounds danced in Bree's already stressed mind concerning the fate of Anna, and it would just get worst no matter what Bree would do.

"You will find her!?" she cried out. Her fingernails dug into her arms, there would be bruises but Bree didn't care now.

The man looked Bree in the eye and said, in what she assumed was a comforting tone, "We will do our best. Anna's case is special. Miss Ranier, please calm yourself," he rifled through the folder before speaking again, "Now Miss Ranier, is there anything that you remember about Anna that could help us?"

Bree took a deep breath. Another breath, her nails still pinning the skin painfully, breathe again. Tears pricking but Bree spoke, her voice wobbly, "She was a Wiccan. She was in some Wiccan groups. They were strange people. Always taking about the power of the mind, weird stuff."

"So I assume you have met them?"

"Yes," Bree took another deep breath, "Anna once convinced me to go with her to a meeting, real-life. They weren't saying magic spells or anything, no tie-dye clothing. They looked normal, but spoke strange. But I remember a woman, I think she was called Trinity."

Bree couldn't be quite sure, the man was posturing like a statue most of the time, but his eyes seemed to widen a bit at the mention of the name and he moved in, leaning towards her just a bit.

"Trinity? Did she look like this?"

He passed a large head-shot of that pale-faced woman Anna and Bree had met those many weeks ago, "Yes, that's the one. I'm sure."

"Thankyou, Miss Ranier," he announced in a tone that meant, to Bree's surprise, their little chat was at a finish, "Your efforts today are most appreciated. We assure you we will do our utmost best in finding Anna."

Bree nodded, forcing a smile on her face. She noticed he did not return the smile. But looked instead, slightly puzzled.

"My colleague, Mr Brown will escort you back to your classroom. Good day, Miss Ranier."

Bree stood up and pushed the hard-backed chair in, careful not to make screeching noises as she did so.

"Thankyou Mr... ?"

"Smith."

No need, Miss Ranier. We are essentially nameless and our purposes essentially thankless.

But so human to waste breath on everything. Even the meaningless and the thankless.

-

**Author's Notes:** Did I catch Smith's character alright? I figured he might have slightly different modes when dealing with humans; eg: kill-kill-kill then interrogate-scare-the-daylights-outta-ya then dealing-with-the-good-little-coppertop. Some people might not agree and that's okay. I myself think that if he did have different modes of operating, the differences would only be slight.

Was the ending okay? The whole piece is just reflecting on the idea of the infamous MIB (men in black) and how the Matrix agents are rooted in that, and co-inciding with the MIB concept is the whole community of conspiracists and their conspiracies. No doubt, there would have been conspiracists in the Matrix and those of that community who went far enough, may of eventually ended up having their theories, beliefs and feelings finally vindicated through being _discovered_.

I also intended Bree to be way scared or at least intimidated by the agents, guess that didn't work out. She's a good little coppertop and I suppose the agents like that, makes their a job a little more easier. And because she happily co-operated with them, I think they would be fairly calm and coolly polite in return. Not shredding her to bits like they did with Neo. I am assuming a lot of things, aren't I? But I do hope I'm right. Makes my job a little easier too.

Also I mean no offence to Wiccans, and those with an interest/practice in Magick. Believe what you please, it's Bree's bias not mine.

Any feedback welcome, especially constructive critique.


End file.
